Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
We played my way after that.
Anthony didn’t fight me on it.
Wednesday morning, I nearly had to drag Anthony out of bed to get him on my jog with me. He put up a fight, but eventually got going with me, and I wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the day. “Think I pulled a hamstring,” he complained at lunch. “Feels like even my balls are sore from that damned jog,” he complained during dinner later, which Trey had cooked for the house—one of Cody’s favorites, which Pete downright devoured. Then all five of us met up with Juniper back at Tumbleweeds that night, where we took turns dominating that poor jukebox once again, all while that same bartender from before watched us with mounting confusion, having identified us as enemies not a week ago.
We’re allowed to confuse people, right?
Juni—she insisted on that night I call her by the short version Anthony uses, as we’re “totally besties now” and the “full Juniper” just wouldn’t do—had pulled me aside at the bar, and that’s when she told me her special idea for what I ought to do with Anthony Friday night. It was surprisingly romantic and sweet, coming from a woman who didn’t seem to value either of those things. Maybe Pete was changing her, too. “Pete really is a romantic at heart,” she confirmed to me when I pointed that fact out, “and looks so cute with a ball gag strapped in his mouth.”
I didn’t ask anything further.
Thursday night, Anthony and I had made plans, but they fell through when he got a call from “Gran” herself, who “found it in her old withered heart to give him a second shot”, but in reality she was short-staffed after two of her servers called in sick. I spent that evening hanging out with Pete, Cody, and Trey at the house while Anthony and I shot funny texts back and forth at each other. I kept telling him to stop texting me and pay attention to his work. That only seemed to inspire him to text me even more, rebellious brat he can be sometimes.
And now, on this glorious Friday evening, Anthony doesn’t go off with Juniper to the Sassy Saloon like he usually does. Instead, he’s coming with me somewhere else, because I’ve got a plan, all thanks to Juniper, and I can’t wait for him to enjoy it.
“Can I take it off yet?” he asks again. “It’s itchy.”
“Nope.”
“So bossy,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his nice shirt I told him to wear. It’s an off-green button-down we bought at the store last weekend when we were all shopping around. I like the way it looks on him. It’s paired with fresh black slacks, and his hair is styled handsomely tonight in that messy, cute, totally Anthony way. I did tell him he’d want to get fancy. He didn’t disappoint.
When we finally arrive, I park the car facing the venue, then nudge him. “Alright, babe. Pop it off.”
Still scowling, he slides the blindfold off impatiently, blinks a dozen times, then squints through the window. “Nadine’s? What?” He looks at me accusatorily. “You brought me all the way out here to Fairview for dinner? Why?”
“For two reasons. Number one,” I say, lifting a finger, “the last and only time you’ve been here, it was to go on that special date with Juniper after she won you at the auction, and neither of you enjoyed it in that romantic way you were likely supposed to.”
“She told you about that?” He eyes me suspiciously. “You two talkin’ behind my back or somethin’? Was this her idea?”
“Partly. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Fuckin’ starved.”
I grin. “Good. Tonight’s dinner is on Juni, despite me telling her I’d rather pay, but she gave me a look, and I had to give in.”
“Those Juni looks,” mutters Anthony, knowing what I mean.
“Make sure to get your money’s worth. Her words, not mine,” I add quickly, “as I’m not a fan of spending other people’s money, so I still think we should be respectful about who’s paying and only order what you plan to eat.”
“What? You think I’m gonna order three steaks and just waste ‘em?” He scoffs. “The heck kinda monster you think I am?”
“A cute one who never does what he’s told. Now stay put and let me help you out of the car like a proper gentleman.”
By the time I get out of the car and come around to his side, he’s already out, slapping shut his own door. “What?” he throws at me. “Think I can’t help myself out of a parked vehicle? You gonna carry me to the entrance of the restaurant, too?”
“Want me to?” I sass right back at him.
He backs against the side of the car when I come up to him.
“Maybe,” he croaks, all his attitude gone.